The Face as Cold as Stone {APH}

Norway's face never changes.
It's just there, emotionless, uncaring, unfeeling - like Norway has shut himself off from the world, and he no longer cares. Denmark is determined to find out why.
Hetalia fanfic, eventual DenNor.
Hetalia does not belong to me.

Denmark's birthday. Scarcely a couple of weeks after they'd escaped the mountains, it was a relief to be back safely with Norway.

And after a day filled with eating and drinking and dancing and laughing, Denmark was almost - but not quite - tired. Norway was the only one remaining in the lounge, sitting on the sofa with a bottle of Akavitt while the other Nordics prepared something in the kitchen.

Collapsing beside him, Denmark leant back into the sofa, reaching out with one arm and pulling Norway closer to him.

"I got you something," Norway said simply in reply, pulling a small gift from his pocket and handing it to Denmark.

It was wrapped almost identically to the one that Denmark had given Norway, with red paper and a white ribbon in the design of the Danish flag. Within was a black box, engraved with the design of a mute swan - the Danish national animal. Grinning, he turned to Norway.

"The wrapping style looks familiar, but the swan was a good idea," he laughed, opening the box to reveal a watch that matched Norway's. The strap was red, with a white stripe down it, while the part around the face was gold, and decorated with the very same flowers, with the Danish motto Guds hjaelp, Folkets kaerlighed, Danmarks styrke along the bottom. Inspecting the watch face, he found the same design with the barely noticeable overlapping country silhouettes mixing into the red and white face.

"This looks familiar," he grinned, as Norway put the bottle of Akavitt down.

"Thought you might want one that matched it perfectly. But as you said, the swan on the box is new."

Denmark turned it over, and his heart jumped at the words engraved on the back in Danish. Jeg elsker dig, it read.

Before Norway could so much as speak, Denmark had crushed him in an overexcited hug, laughing at the words he knew Norway would never speak but meant with all his heart.

"Norge, that's so amazing!" Denmark exclaimed, releasing his friend from the embrace. Shooting him a quick glare, Norway recomposed himself, a faint scarlet tainting his cheeks ever so slightly.

"I mean it," he muttered, then swiftly turned his head and downed more of the Akavitt.

"I know you do," Denmark grinned widely, still not believing his luck as he fastened the watch to his wrist. And then, as an afterthought, "I'm glad you're here. Wouldn't be the same without you, Norge."

"Well, who else is going to drag England out when he gets too drunk?"

At this, Denmark gave a half-hearted laugh, still trying to forget about the smashed lamp and the unconscious American who'd made the fatal mistake of interrupting England's drunken ranting.

Curious, Denmark got up and followed the Norwegian from the house, to see the other three Nordics standing before Sweden's car.

"So, what is it?" he grinned.

"Something Sweden found when he was cleaning out his house. He was going to throw it away, but Norway recognised it when he came around," Finland beamed, as Sweden opened up the roof box of his car and produced something. Denmark's eyes lit up. Could it be...?

"You found my axe?" he gasped, taking it from Sweden and holding it with trembling hands. It had been so long since he'd last fought with this axe. The memories came rushing in...

He stood back to back with Norway, the axe in his hand as their enemies surrounded them, charging forwards with shouts and cries. Denmark wielded the weapon with intense skill, his movements strong and fast as the Norwegian picked off enemies with his own blade.

Around them, the battle raged on, cries and shouts resounding through the war field as blades crossed and weapons clashed. All Denmark could focus on was protecting both himself and his ally, moving in perfect sync with Norway as they fought endlessly against their opponents. Each time Norway needed support, Denmark would provide it without hesitation; Norway would do the same and protect Denmark if he ever needed help.

Perfectly coordinated, the duo worked so well together it was almost impossible. Any foe was cut down easily by one of them. Words were unnecessary; their teamwork was so legendary they needed not speak to portray their thoughts. Swinging his axe, Denmark didn't even need to warn Norway; his friend simply ducked without so much as a second thought.

It was like second nature, fighting alongside Norway. The other nation understood him so well, his rush of adrenaline in the midst of a fight and the danger that came with that rush of energy.

But Denmark knew he could never hurt Norge.

"Denmark!" Finland's voice, worried and concerned, sliced through his memories as he jolted back to reality. Grinning, Denmark patted his back reassuringly.

"Just a few memories," he replied dismissively, and Finland nodded with relief. "Now... Anyone up for more cake?"